


i believe in the way you call to me

by sevensevan



Series: pride month 2018 [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/F, Gay, Motorcycles, Pietro is the best brother, Vignette, that's it that's the whole story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-14
Updated: 2018-06-14
Packaged: 2019-05-23 15:03:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14936552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevensevan/pseuds/sevensevan
Summary: They've been saying I love you since sophomore year.





	i believe in the way you call to me

**Author's Note:**

> just a little vignette for pride month. no real plot, just Feelings.

It’s a scorching hot summer, the one after Wanda’s senior year.

She spends most of it at Natasha’s place, lying side by side under a slowly-turning ceiling fan with their shirts off, sleeping and making out lazily whenever the temperature drops enough that they can bear physical contact. They go out at night, after the sun goes down and the temperature returns to something more Earth-like and less hellish, and Nat’s ex-foster brother Steve lets them borrow his motorcycle because he’s a sweetheart (also because _nobody_ says no to Natasha Romanoff, but mostly because Steve is a good man, a good friend). Wanda buys a leather jacket from a thrift shop, and they fly through the city streets beneath the warm light of the streetlamps, Natasha driving, Wanda pressed up against her back, face turned sideways, watching the world shoot past in a blur of color and shadow.

Pietro covers for Wanda with their foster parents, feeding them lies about friends’ houses and concerts and whatever else he can come up with. Wanda stumbles in most nights at four or five in the morning to sleep for four hours before going back to Natasha’s apartment, and there’s always a tupperware container of leftovers in the fridge, along with a sticky note in Sokovian telling her exactly where their foster parents believe her to have been.

It had taken some convincing, back when Natasha and Wanda had first started dating, for Pietro to like Natasha. Now, thought, Wanda swears he’s more invested in the two of them than _she_ is. It may have something to do with the _excellent_ fake ID Natasha had made him back in junior year, right before she dropped out of high school and went to work in the same garage as Steve’s boyfriend. Whatever it is, Wanda is grateful for it, because she couldn’t live without either of them.

Pietro gives her shit sometimes for how much she hangs around Natasha, but Wanda can’t help it. It’s magnetic, this thing between the two of them, and it only seems to grow stronger the more they’re around each other. Wanda sleeps on Natasha’s worn-out twin mattress with Natasha pressed against her side, and showers to the sound of the old pipes in Natasha’s apartment building creaking, and by July her hair smells like Natasha’s shampoo and they’ve both lost track of whose clothing is whose, and Wanda is going to move away for college in September and she’s already planning out how Natasha can come with her.

It’s August by the time the heat breaks, but when it does, it breaks with a storm. Wanda is stranded at Natasha’s apartment, and she calls Pietro and has to yell over the thunder to let him know that she isn’t coming home. The power goes out in the first ten minutes, but the storm rages on into the early morning, the only light in the apartment coming from flashes of lightning through the windows and the dozens of candles Natasha has lit.

“Come outside with me,” Natasha says over the rolling thunder around midnight. Wanda looks at the windows, at the lightning and rain and listens to the way the wind is howling, and she looks back at Natasha and says, “You’re crazy.” Natasha grins, wild and savage and beautiful, and another flash of lightning lights up the apartment, white light flashing across Natasha’s face, her eyes glinting in the candlelit darkness.

Natasha walks out onto her tiny balcony into the rain. Wanda watches through the sliding glass door as Natasha leans out against the railing, tilting her face up towards the black storm clouds. The lightning is still flashing, the thunder still booming, the wind still shrieking through the streets and alleys of the city, and Natasha stands above it all, framed by the clouds and lightning and the pouring rain. Wanda is struck suddenly by the way she’s somehow bigger than life, bigger than her GED and her job at the auto shop, bigger than this city and everyone in it. Natasha is something _more_ , and Wanda is so, so in love.

“Come with me,” Wanda says without preamble, when Natasha walks back into the apartment, shivering. Natasha strips off her soaked-through tank-top and pushes her hair back from her face, catching Wanda in her gaze, and suddenly Wanda feels like it’s a hundred and five degrees again, her skin prickling wonderfully. “Come with me,” she repeats. “When—when I leave. Come with me.” Natasha steps forward, resting a palm on Wanda’s waist and pulling her into a kiss. Wanda runs her hand through Natasha’s hair, laughing when Natasha pulls away and winces after Wanda’s fingers hit a knot. Natasha gets a familiar look in her eyes, dark and hot and intense, and she pushes Wanda back towards the open door to her tiny bedroom and the squeaky mattress beyond.

“I thought that was the plan,” Natasha says hours later, when the rain has quieted to a gentle, rhythmic tapping on the window by the bed, and the sky has lightened from an angry darkness to a quiet grey.

“What?” Wanda murmurs, not even opening her eyes. She’s perfectly comfortable where she is, curled across Natasha’s chest as Natasha’s fingers card through her hair.

“Me going with you,” Natasha clarifies. They’re both speaking in almost-whispers, tired and calm and half-asleep. “I thought that was the plan.” Wanda kisses Natasha’s shoulder lightly, soothingly.

“You never said anything,” she mumbles.

“I didn’t think it needed to be said.” Wanda considers that for a moment, considers the fact that they’ve practically moved in with each other at this point, that they’ve been saying _I love you_ since sophomore year, that nothing else in her life has ever felt this real, this solid, this _final_.

“Perhaps it didn’t,” Wanda says, twining her legs a bit more tightly around Natasha’s. “I meant it all the same.”

“I know you did,” Natasha says, kissing the top of her head. Wanda smiles, leaning her head against Natasha’s palm where it rests in her hair and relishing the warmth of Natasha underneath her, the sound of the rain outside, the faint scent of gasoline that Natasha hasn’t been able to shake since she started working in the garage, and the feeling of _certainty_ in her chest.

There is very little _permanence_ in Wanda’s life. For a long time, it was only her, Pietro, and their shared grief: for their parents, for their home, for their heritage. But this… _this_ is permanent. This is _real_. More than real. Wanda is half-convinced it’s magic most of the time, that Natasha is something supernatural, that the two of them are fate or destiny. And perhaps they are, or perhaps they are just children playing at love, at real life, playing at happiness.

Either way, it is enough for Wanda. It is all she could ever pray for.

She falls asleep in Natasha’s arms, listening to the rain fall and knowing that this is the only place on Earth she wants to be.

**Author's Note:**

> lowkey super tempted to turn this into a lil series of vignettes and oneshots and such, but last time i tried that i wrote two fics and abandoned it, so. anyways. i'm writing a fic a day for pride month, and i'm taking any and all lgbtq prompts through the end of june. leave a comment or send me an ask on tumblr @daisys-quake. leave a comment and kudos if you enjoyed.


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